What Really Happened
by magicfingerrs
Summary: Read the title. Right after Christine wakes up in Erik's swan bed, she removes his mask. But was this merely curiosity on her part? Or scheming on his? EC, explicit sex, slightly NC, minor, AU


I heard Christine stir right away.

I would like to clear that up with everyone. Everybody seems to think that she had caught me unawares, my defenses down, and ripped off my mask while I was in a trance.

But no, that is not what happened.

After I wooed her with my pretty song, after she fainted into my arms, and after I injected her with some insulin, I left Christine to rest in my bed. Another mistake people seem to have made regards the reason why she fainted in the first place.

My beautiful replication of her didn't drive her to unconsciousness at all.

Christine is a diabetic.

She also suffers from hypoglycemia, and when she goes without food for long periods of time, she begins to feel faint, nauseaus, and sometimes even hallucinates.

You wonder why her eyes appear glazed over all the time?

Her disease affect her eyesight. Sometimes, she has told me, she sees doubles of things, and people will come in and out of focus.

_That_ is why she fainted.

As I was saying, after I laid my dear beauty down to rest, I retreated to my lake and bathed. Having a beautiful, teenage virgin lying in my bed only several feet away had caused me to perspire quite a bit, and I certainly didn't want to smell musty or foul when my love finally awoke.

After I bathed, I dressed quickly, and sat down at my piano. The stirrings of a song had been drifting about my mind for several days, but I still hadn't quite gotten to writing it all out on paper. And so, while my darling rested her tired little body, I composed. The clock on my mantel informed me of the minutes passing- first twenty, then fourty... my diva had been asleep for nearly an hour and a half.

And then... I heard her stir.

It certainly wasn't a loud sound-- she was a delicate little thing, barely one hundred pounds-- no, the noise she made was soft, only discernable to a trained ear like mine. I heard the gentle little padding of a tiny foot touching the Persian carpet, the tinkling rustle of lacy skirts brushing my bed-- _my bed!_-- and then... footsteps, walking towards me.

I quickly tried to think of something to play-- what to play, what to play! My mind went blank, and by God, I could not remember a single note of music! _Pattering footsteps, coming closer..._ I began a lively Clementi sonatina.

_What would she think of me? I mastered this piece when I was three! _

I relaxed; Christine adored me, I was her angel. Clementi slipped into a waltz by Chopin... my shoulders swayed... and yes, the footsteps pattered against concrete floor this time.

_Where was she? Perhaps she got lost in the dark... I ought to find her..._

No! If I did, I would ruin everything. Just stay right where you are, and keep playing. She'll fall right into your trap...

I heard her; no, I _felt_ her. She was right behind me, I could smell the feminine mixture of sweat and rosey soap, and Christine... Out of the corner of my eye, I saw her hand reach out timidly--_there, there, yes! Go on, take it off!_ But no-- she faltered, and her hand dropped.

No matter. My little girl was curious- I just had to give her a moment.

Chopin lapsed to Bellini, and I continued to pretend not to see her. My eyes closed of their own accord, and I could practically see Christine uncertainly biting her lip and shifting from foot to foot, as I told her not to many times.

I sensed something beside my head-- ah, yes, yes! Cool air rushed across my fair, and the mask made an unsightly clattering noise as it fell to the ground. I stayed still for a moment, and made sure Christine got a good look at me, then jumped up and swung my hand around violently.

"Look! You want to see! _See_! Feast your eyes, glut your soul on my cursed ugliness!"

Breathing like an enraged hippo, I chanced a look at her-- she looked terrified. I saw faint bruising well up on the very side of her head, disappearing into delicious little brown curls. I felt remorse bubbling up within me, but another look at her supple little form settled my guilt. It was all a means to end... The end would justify the means...

Sucking in a great breath of air, I continued my tirade.

"You wanted to know what I looked like! Oh, you women are so inquisitive! Well, are you satisfied? I'm a very good-looking fellow, eh?...When a woman has seen me, as you have, she belongs to me_. She loves me forever_!"

I knocked down some candleabras, ripped up a score or two, and ripped at my hair, all the while screaming, "_Damn you! Curse you!_" Another glance at Christine-- yes, she was still in mortal terror of me-- assured me of my phenomenal acting skills.

Really, I sometimes believe that I ought to be on the stage, rather than tirelessly directing all of the numbskulls behind it.

But I digress.

I slowly calmed down, and walked back towards my cowering little coward. Oh, she looked so delectable with her little sausage curls all bouncy and mussed up, her big, brown eyes running with that ridiculous war-paint Giry paints on her, and her china white skin trembling of terrific fear and awe of me as I approach.

_Oh darling, darling... you must never fear your Erik..._

"Damn you..." I whispered hoarsely, sinking to my knees in front of her. I dropped my face into my hands and pretended to sob, shaking my shoulders and breathing heavily to further convice her. She ruslted a little, and I saw her crawling towards me excruciatingly slowly, those petrified brown cow eyes staring at me warily.

"Erik...?" she began pathetically. Her voice was so soft, I wasn't even sure if she had spoken aloud. It was tremulous and wavery, ready to break at any moment.

"Oh, Christine..." I mourned, "How you've hurt your angel..."

"I'm sorry!" she sniffled in a sob-choked whisper. "Please, angel, I'm sorry, I promise not to ever, ever do it again, please forgive me--"

I waved my hand mournfully and shook my head. "But no, what is a promise from Christine? It is nothing-- see how she breaks her word in the blink of an eye? No, no, I can never trust you again!" I cried, breaking into tears again.

"No!" she wailed, her voice still a hushed whisper. "No, please, you can trust me! I swear it, angel, I swear it on my father's grave!" Her eyes grew even wider at this last declaration- I'm sure she hadn't exactly meant to say that. But for once, my dear was staunch in her decision.

"I swear it angel." she whispered. "I'm sorry... please, please forgive me?"

I thought about letting it go right there, but seeing her on the floor in front of me, crying with her hands raised in submission and obedience to me as though I were a god was far too much fun.

"No," I wept, shaking my head. "Never, never again. You're just like everyone else. I can't trust you..." I got to my feet and began walking away, making sure she knew that I was going to my coffin. If anything would push her along, that would.

"I'll do anything!"

Aha... I stopped walking and slowly, slowly, slowly turned on my heel to face her. She was weeping tears of desperation, it seemed.

"..._anything_, my dear?" I had to fight down the malicious grin that threatened to burst onto my face.

"Anything!" she cried, crawling to my feet and clawing at my trousers. "Please don't leave me, angel. Please, please... I'll be good, I swear."

_Please don't leave me..._ Ahh... my refusal of her probably mirrored her father's death. And her mother's death. Her lack of a stable home growing up. She couldn't bear to be abandoned. I was sick, taking advantage of her condition like this.

But I loved it.

She was still tugging at my sleeve, begging me not to leave her, when I gently stroked her cheek. Her face brightened a bit, and she squeezed my hand tighter. "Oh, angel!" she sobbed in relief. "Oh, angel, you forgive me!"

I gently pulled my hand away and kept her at arm's length. "No..." I whispered softly. "I haven't forgiven you yet. How will I know if I can trust you again?"

A look of distres crossed her face, and I turned away.

"Will you prove you undying love and devotion to me?" I asked her huskily.

"Oh, yes, yes, I will! Whatever you will have me do to show you that I am pure and sorry I will do!" she cried.

I cleard my throat- it was terribly dry all of a sudden- and licked my lips.

"Very well." I whispered hoarsely. "Follow me."

I led her into the bedroom, and motioned to the bed. She sat down, and looked at me in confusion.

"This is not the only time I have doubted your virtue and trustworthiness," I began softly, fixing her with an accusatory gaze. "The Viscomte... do you allow him liberties?"

She stared at me in confusion, and I slowly sat down very close to her.

"Do you..." I began, slowly raising my hand to rest on my thigh, "Allow the Viscomte..." I gazed into her eyes, and I think she began to understand, "Liberties?" I finished by placing my hand on her thigh.

"No!" she cried. I could tell she only had a vague idea of what I was talking about; just to make sure, I squeezed her thigh hard, and dug my nails into her pale, lucious skin. She cried out and implored me with wet lashes and a trembling lip. "Stop!" she whimpered, trying to pry my fingers away. "No!"

"I told you no when asked about the mask!" I hissed, threading my fingers in her hair. "And you dare disobey me, and tell me no now? Hmmm?" I grabbed a handful of curls and tugged a little bit, to make her cry out.

She started to cry again and shook her head. "I don't." she whimpered, pleading with her eyes. "I promise- he has never touched me!"

"Oh, but how am I to know for certain?" I asked mournfully, letting go of her hair. "I don't choose to teach whores and gutter girls, Christine."

"But I'm not!" she cried, "I'm not, oh God, I'm not! Why won't you believe me?"

"I will believe you..." I began, "But there is only one way to know for sure if you are still innocent, as you claim."

"Anything." she whispered. I cleared my throat.

"Take off your clothes."

She looked at me with those big baby eyes. "What?" she asked tremulously.

"Take off your dress, darling." I repeated. "It would make me so very happy after you've hurt me so..." I pressed my body against hers, and slowly pushed her onto her back. Just for theatric's sake, I allowed fresh tears to spring to my eyes as I nuzzled my broken face into her neck.

"O-ok." she whispered uncertainly, her eyes impossibly large. She bit her lip and blushed scarlett as I slowly started unbuttoning her dress.

"Oh, Christine... you do love your angel, don't you?"

"Yes..." she whispered. Her voice was shaking terribly; I pressed my finger against the pulse in her throat-- her heart was beating incredibly fast.

"Ohhh, yes, my angel... that's a good girl..." I whispered as I threw her dress and corset behind me. I could see the faint impression of her young little breasts beneath the thin chemise. I was impossibly hard-- Christine felt me, and made a little sound of distress as her eyes watered up again.

"What is that?" she sniffled helplessly. I could tell she was becoming overwelmed; I was frightening her.

"It's just something to show you how much your angel loves you, darling... don't you love your angel?" I murmured, slyly unbuttoning my shirt.

She sniffed and nodded, still unreassured, and started when she saw me shirtless. Now really, I know I must be a tad pale and thin, but I live underground, for God's sake...!

"Why must we be naked?" she whimpered through hiccuping tears.

"Because when two people love each other very much, like you and I, Christine, they lay down together naked. They touch each other, and kiss, and say how much they love each other. You understand, don't you, my love?" I answered, gently rolling her over to unbutton her chemise. "What's wrong, angel?" I asked, feeling how much she was trembling.

"I'm scared!" she wept, breathing in great, gasping breaths.

"Shhh, shhh, don't be scared, sweetheart... don't be scared." I whispered, rolling her back over and throwing her chemise over my head. She helplessly tried to cover her tiny breasts, and burrowed deeper under the covers to hide the little secret between her legs. I smiled benevolently.

"I suppose you haven't been naked in front of many people, hmm?" I asked gently. Sniffing, she shook her head.

"Maybe... Meg and your Papa? Is that all?" I whispered, propping myself on one elbow and drawing lazy whorls on her belly. And what a lovely belly it was! Her skin was warm and soft, and I could feel the faint, nearly invisible little blonde hairs as I rubbed my hand over her.

She nodded, still drawing in shaking breaths. "Only my Papa and Meg..." she repeated.

"And you love them both very much, hmm?" I asked. I must speak to Christine as though she is a toddler sometimes, for although she a musical genius and love of my life, she doesn't seem to understand the need to... grow up at times.

"Yes," she sniffled. "Very much."

"And you love your angel, right, Christine?"

I have no idea why, but she burst into fresh, helpless sounding tears at this question, even as she nodded furiously. I quieted her rather sharply, as I was starting to get a bit impatient, and kissed her forehead.

"There, there, darling. It'll be quick, I promise."

She said something, but between her teeth chattering and her incessant, noisy crying I couldn't understand a word. I ignored her, and, before slaking my lust upon her, slid down her body and pried open her legs to take a look. I leaned in closer; this was, after all, the only one I had ever seen, and inhaled in fascination.

It was all very pink; perhaps this was why women adored the colour? I could see many folds and secret looking orifices, and on top, below a rosey pinkish hood of skin, peeked a quivering, bright pink little bud.

I touched it curiously, and heard Christine start crying again. She attempted to close her legs, and I could practically feel the heat radiating off of her full body blush.

"Madame says only naughty girls open their legs." she wept, trembling uncontrollably.

"Madame," I called from between her legs, "Is an old prude that is merely telling you poor, naive girls exactly what was told to her when she was younger."

"What?" she wailed helplessly, wriggling around uncomfortably and trying to clock my head with her knees.

"Stay still before I tie you down!" I snapped, yanking her thighs apart once more. She sniffled and fussed some more, but as I continued to touch and explore her, I began to hear less crying and more soft little oh!s of surprise.

Soon I couldn't take it anymore. I eagerly climbed atop her, found my mark, and thrust, groaning and twitching the whole time. She made the oddest sound; it sounded something like a yelp, hiccup, and 'OH!' all rolled into one.

I had never felt anything so incredibly _tight_ in my entire life. I felt like I would die from the intense pleasure coursing through my entire body. And indeed, while I did not die, I did spend myself _rather _quickly.

I glanced at Christine; she seemed to be in some sort of shock. Her mouth was opened slightly, and her breath sounded forced. I furrowed my brow in concern and pressed the back of my palm against her forehead.

"Christine!" I said sharply, snapping my fingers in front of her eyes. She started and blinked at me. "Angel," she whispered. "Is it over?"

I sighed in relief and lowered my hand. "Yes, darling, it's over. It wasn't so bad now, was it?"

She shook her head dutifully and caught my eye nervously. "Did I please you, angel?" she whispered anxiously.

"Yes, sweetheart," I whispered darkly, "You've pleased me very much."


End file.
